


Dust Bites

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pushing Daisies Fusion, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Murder Mystery, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: Blue Sargent has a power like no one else she knows: she can bring someone back from the dead with a single touch. But the power comes with rules:1.	One touch and the dead are alive again2.	But bring the dead back for longer than a minute and someone else has to pay the price3.	And then a second touch will make the person dead once more. ForeverUnfortunately, she brings a boy back to life before she finds out about any of the rules and then runs away before she learns any of the consequences. But seven years, five months, four days and eight hours later the boy walks back into her life to become her true love.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Kudos: 10





	Dust Bites

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a long time unable to decide if I should post this fic, but here it is anyway. If you're wondering about the title, then my thoughts were roughly as follows: Pushing Daisies = dead = biting the dust. That's terrible, I know...

On this day, Blue Sargent was nine years, ten months, eighteen days, five hours and twelve minutes old. She was currently roaming through a small wood, fascinated by every tree she passed. Every few steps she stopped to look up at the canopy over her head, awed by the never-ending ceiling made from leaves.

The wood was cool, offering respite from the heat of the Henrietta summer. Animals hidden from view filled the air with murmurs and cries. Here a bird called out, over there paws pattered on the ground.

Blue liked it here. She liked to listen to the faint rustling of leaves, the far-off chattering of animals and to know that there were no people around for miles.

She spotted a beech tree taller than all the others and made straight for it. Judging it the best place to stop, she dropped down to sit at its roots. The shade here was perfect.

Blue lived in a house that was filled to bursting with women. From her mother and her aunts, to far-off distant cousins, whose relationship no one could explain without a complicated diagram that included lots of arrows and words like “I don’t know what the relationship between them and you is called”, there was no shortage of people to stumble into. Every single one of them was a psychic with one small exception: Blue herself.

Blue realized this when she’d been 3 years, 4 months, 5 days and 2 hours old. It was also when she’d first complained about this to her mother.

“You have a power all of your own,” her mother had said.

“Which one is that?” Blue had asked.

At this point, her mother had been at a loss. She had foreseen that her daughter was gifted with a power, but something had prevented her from seeing what exactly it was.

At first Blue had imagined that her power was something very special. She spent two weeks and three days telling herself that it was definitely better than the psychic abilities most of her family had. This was, after all, a power that only she had. But as time went by she began to suspect that she didn’t have a supernatural power at all and that her mother had only said that to make her feel better about not being a psychic. Blue knew her mother always told the truth, but perhaps being born into a family of psychics without inheriting psychic powers also counted as a power?

And now, when she’d set out to roam through the woods, she’d gone with the sole purpose of having several minutes all to herself, completely devoid of psychics and the reminder how powerless she was.

Not far from where Blue thought she was taking a short rest from knowing she couldn’t see the future, someone was having a very miserable time.

Richard Gansey the Third was ten years, six months, five days, two hours, fifteen minutes and three seconds old. At this very moment he was in a room filled with adults. All of them were well-dressed, very refined and very, very rich, almost obscenely so. But most importantly of all, they were all trying to be kind to him and, for some reason that he couldn’t explain, he was convinced that they were all lying.

“Look at you, Dick! Look at how grown up you are!” one old lady exclaimed, as if she, a lady who had years and years to spare, was confused by the idea of someone else getting older. Her face loomed over him, managing the trick of appearing larger than it was. “You must be in school now. What grade are you in?”

He opened his mouth to answer and spotted his mother behind the old lady, standing at the other end of the room. The answer to the old lady’s question got caught in his throat.

He was suddenly aware of the great number of adults in the room (49 and the leg of a person who was stepping out at that very moment). He thought about how they must have all once been his age and then remembered that his parents must have once been his age too, before they grew up to become who they were now. Once, Richard Gansey the Second had been the same age as him, and before that – Richard Gansey the First. He felt trapped. He was doomed to one day grow up to become like his parents and there was nothing he could do about it.

The world stopped. He let all these thoughts take over his mind. He considered what he could possibly do.

And then he smiled and time continued to move. “Excuse me,” he said to the old lady. “I need some fresh air.”

He didn’t run. He took a slow steady walk to escape outside as if he was just going to step out to take a quick breath of fresh air and come back in.

Finally he was outside. He made a few steps, made sure no one could see him and bolted through the garden. He dashed through lined with bushes, none of which ever produced flowers. He passed little statues and circled around fountains.

The garden ended with a tall gate that someone had carelessly left unlocked. It swung open under the boy’s touch and he found himself at the entrance of a forest. The trees before him were tall and they cast dark shadows on the ground.

He stood out in the hot sun and contemplated the forest in the same way that a traveller in a dessert contemplates a city rising from the dunes. He had seen the insides of large mansions, proof of the folly people can indulge in when they have lots of money and not much to spend it on. He had seen incredible works of art. But in his eyes, the forest was the most impressive thing he’d ever seen.

He entered it as his heart beat loudly in his chest. The shadows were soft and welcoming. The place was like an open treasure chest. To his left, something chattered, making him jump. On his right he heard a loud tapping. What was that? Who was making those noises?

There was no one here to ask, no one here to explain it all, but – most importantly of all – no one to protect him from it all.

Something moved in the grass and he stopped to admire its fur. It was small and unthreatening. It was some sort of rodent, but he didn’t know its name.

He stepped around it with great care and kept going. Deeper and deeper into the forest he went as the animal cries grew more fantastical. Remembering the book he’d read recently, he imagined he was in a jungle. He pretended that the birds’ cries were made by large birds with bright-coloured feathers and that the other cries belonged to other fantastic animals.

What if one of them came out in front of him? What if…

A loud buzzing sound filled the air and he stopped.

Hornets rose out of the ground. First there were only a few, less than a dozen. Then there were at least two dozen, then three and four until they became a big cloud. The big cloud headed directly for him.

One year, two months, a week, three days and five minutes ago he’d been stung by a bee. It had been a small sting, but his body hadn’t liked it one bit and his parents had rushed him to a hospital.

His next clear memory was of sitting in a hospital bed and listening to his parents talk about allergies and what they meant. He’d learned he was allergic to bee stings and that, if he wasn’t careful, one of them would kill him.

When he returned home he discovered that the garden behind his house, which had once been filled with the most beautiful flowers imaginable, had changed. All the rosebushes had been replaced with shrubbery that didn’t have a single bloom.

This was why when he saw the buzzing cloud, he knew exactly what it meant: death.

He closed his mouth and stood absolutely still. The cloud surrounded him and a myriad tiny creatures landed on him. He felt their tiny feet on his skin and then came the first sting, followed by the second.

He closed his eyes.

A soft thump woke Blue up from her reverie. Her destiny tugged on her and she went, unable to resist. It didn’t take her long to find what – or rather _who_ – had made the noise.

A boy lay on the floor of the forest, surrounded by the bodies of dead hornets. Was this some kind of game? What was he doing here? He was dressed in a suit, as if lying in the woods was a formal occasion that required the person to be wearing their best. The cut of the suit made it obvious that his parents had more money than Blue’s mother did. Much more money.

Blue stepped closer, but still he didn’t stir. Worried, she ran over to his side, hoping and expecting that any minute now he would sit up and laugh at her.

The boy lay still.

She crouched down and put her ear to his chest.

Blue didn’t know anything about first aid, but she knew enough to be frightened when she heard no heartbeat.

The boy wasn’t just still, he was dead.

She sat up and tried to think. What could she do? The answer was simple enough: nothing. But she felt desperate to do something. She looked around for inspiration. Then her eyes returned to the boy in front of her. He lay there, completely still, as if asleep. She remembered the story of Sleeping Beauty and then something she’d once heard about CPR.

Her eye fell on the boy’s hand, lying limply by his side. A hornet lay on his open palm, as if resting.

Blue was a sensible girl. She understood that crying wouldn’t help and she doubted whether shouting for help would either. She wondered what her mother would do in this situation.

The boy had to have parents, she reasoned, and they were bound to come looking for him. She had to stay and be ready to call out when they came.

Overhead the trees rustled, the shadows moved and, for a moment, she thought she saw the boy move.

“Don’t be scared,” she whispered. “I’ll look after you.” She pressed her hand against the boy’s open palm and felt a jolt pass through her.

The boy stirred. This time it wasn’t the shadows, or her imagination, she was sure of it. She backed away and tumbled backwards onto the twigs and little plants that covered the forest floor.

He opened his eyes and sat up, blinking at his surroundings. “How did…? What happened?” He stared down at his hands and watched a dead hornet roll off and fall on the ground.

He shuddered and all the blood drained from his face. At last, he raised his eyes and saw Blue.

“Dick!” a man’s voice called out.

Another voice shouted after it, “Richard! Richard Gansey!”

Blue threw a terrified glance at the boy. Someone was coming here, looking for the boy. It had to be his parents. There would be questions and she’d be called upon to explain something she didn’t understand.

She had seen the way people looked at her mother and her aunts when they talked about the future. She didn’t want someone to look at her in the same way. She didn’t want to be mocked or laughed at.

She scrambled up to her feet and ran through the forest, hoping she was going back the way she had come.

“Wait!” the boy called after her, but she kept going, determined to get as far away as possible.

She weaved through the trees, too terrified to think of what she’d just done.

Blue’s gift – like her family’s psychic gifts – arrived from an unknown sender. It came with no instructions and no rules. No one had ever discussed reincarnation with her before, but something insider her was terrified of this power. That she would get to decide who was brought back to life felt unfair and bizarre. Why her? She was no better qualified to judge people than anyone else (even if deep inside she was sure she’d do it better than anyone else).

But as her house full of psychic relatives appeared before her a chilling possibility presented itself: what was the price? She had been present at enough psychic readings to know that there was always a price. In her mother’s case it was very straightforward: reveal too much of the future and your own future would change. It was the reason why all psychics were so cryptic. No one was ever sure that the change would be a positive one.

What, then, would be her price?

Her mother might know, but Blue didn’t want to trade futures and, besides, she was smart enough to figure things out for herself.

She continued on past her house and up a hill where the houses on her street ended and where he hoped no one would see what she was about to do.

The road got steeper and steeper until she reached the top of the hill at last. She turned and stared down at the streets of Henriette below. The town spread out before her like a map.

She’d gotten really hot from climbing all that way and wished she could’ve returned to the forest instead. With a sigh she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and made for the nearest shade.

Around her insects flew, the trees rustled and the world was filled with that same bustle that is always present when humanity doesn’t interfere with nature.

Out here she could try to do it again and see if it really had been her newly-found power that had brought that boy back from the dead.

Poking around in the grass, Blue found some insects she’d accidentally stepped on and brought them back to life.

She sat down and hugged her legs. It was true. She really _could_ bring the dead back to life. It _had_ been her!

One of the ants she’d brought back to life walked towards her and she reached out for it, her heart beating fast, wondering if she was supposed to feel like a god.

The ant touched her skin. There was a short zap and the ant stopped moving. It was dead again.

Blue poked it with her finger, but nothing happened. For some reason, her power wasn’t working now.

Worried she’d lost it, she turned around and found another dead ant to try to bring back to life. This time she felt that shock and the ant started to move again. She let out a sigh of relief.

But when she looked around herself, there were more dead insects on the ground that she’d initially thought.

Two hours, 45 minutes and 10 seconds later, she returned home, having spent a very productive afternoon.

Her powers had come to her with no manual, no instructions, but she’d succeeded in working out the rules.

Rule 1: if Blue touched something dead, she brought it back to life.

Rule 2: a second touch from Blue meant death. Forever this time.

Rule 3: if she brought someone back to life for longer than a minute, then someone else died.

There was no satisfaction on her face as she entered her house. Somewhere out there was a boy she’d brought back to life, which meant two things: someone had died so he could live and if she ever touched him again, he would die.

Her mother, Maura, was in the kitchen when Blue walked in, desperate for a glass of water. She studied her daughter’s face in silence before pronouncing, “You found your power.” It wasn’t a question: she already knew the answer.

Blue just nodded.

“What is it? Will you tell me?”

Blue filed her cup with water and turned around to face her mother. She knew that her mother was the only – no, not _only_ – she was one of the people – along with every woman in her house – who would believe her.

An image of the dead boy appeared before her eyes. She downed another cup of water and told her mother everything.

Seven years, five months, four days and four hours later Blue was going to Nino’s to work her evening shift, not knowing that her past was about to catch up with her.

The facts were these: Nino’s was a very popular diner with boys who went to Aglionby – the all-boys school for sons over very rich men. The raven on their uniform earned them the nickname Raven Boys. There was no explanation for why they liked Nino’s. Its food was just as good (or just as bad) as that offered by the other diners. Its famous iced tea wasn’t noticeably different form the iced tea served at any of the other diners.

Blue’s explanation for this strange phenomenon was as follows: big amounts of money did something strange to a person’s taste buds. The effect was similar to the one giant planets have on all the bodies around them, only here a lot of money attracted bad taste buds. She had to admit to herself that the theory needed more work, but it was definitely a good start.

At that moment, there were already two tables packed with Aglionby boys. The front door opened and Blue braced herself for a third group.

As the waitress closest to the door it was her job to greet the people who came in. Remembering what she’d been told many times, she put on a smile and hoped it would pass for convincing.

A boy stepped into the diner. He was followed by more people, but at that moment Blue only saw him.

Seven years, five months, four days and eight hours had passed since their first meeting, but Blue recognized him at once: this was the boy she’d brought back to life.


End file.
